


Till The World Ends [HIATUS]

by RayearthHikaru



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Assassin's Creed III, Drama, F/M, Kissing, Love, Making Love, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1960764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayearthHikaru/pseuds/RayearthHikaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you kissed him for the first time at the age of seventeen, you were just a simple girl uncertain about the upcoming future, but sure as hell about your already deep feelings for the native aspiring Assasin.<br/>After more than twelve years later you are still there for him, right when everything around you is facing destruction and all his loved ones are either gone or dead. Because he is a huge part of you and nothing could ever change that, not even your fear of losing him in war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The first kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Connor... do I really need to say anything about such a great character? I don't think so. Enjoy ^_^

You stare at the blue sky above you with a pair of burning eyes and very heavy eyelids, the slightly stinging grass beneath your body and fatigue of the day starting to pounce over you like a powerful landslide. You close your eyes as the fresh breeze caresses your skin with a delicate touch, hands placed comfortably on your lap and the soft ground supporting your head.

From your current state of drowsiness, you can hear the sound of familiar steps whilst they approach your lying figure, boots echoing all around. The person setttles in the grass with you after a short moment of consideration, warm fingers replace the wind's touch on your cheek and forehead. A sense of piece and completeness fills your chest which rises with every deep breath you take, eyes opening again and lips forming a smile.

Taking in his deep brown eyes, perfect tanned face and dark hair you whisper a simple word, voice a bit hoarse with weariness mixed with excitement. “Hey!”

Visible guiltiness appears on the boy's features. "Did I... wake you up? Sorry...”

Giggling you shake your head. “It's okay, Connor. I was still half awake.”

Lifting your back from the ground you slowly move closer to your native friend, who silently watches your actions with his hypnotic gaze. Even though he usually hates being touched from other people – mostly by strangers because of what his culture has taught him, but you're not a stranger anymore – he doesn't protest when your head lays on his left shoulder in such an intimate way, his arm circling your smaller form with a slight hesitation.

He clears his throat. “How was your day?”

“Oh, usual things you know,” you answer, playing with a blade of grass between your fingers. “Cleaning, helping Achilles around, playing board games (losing)...”

“But the estate is not small,” he clarifies. “Cleaning must be... tiresome for you.”

You chuckle. “It is, indeed. But hey, I will survive.”

This is your favourite part of the day, the moment when you can spend some time with him, alone at the Homestead. Staying between Connor's arms you wonder how the world could be so threatened by war and executions, when you couldn't feel more satisfied and pleased by your simple, yet challenging life.

“Connor,” you speak, shifting your hand from the ground to his clothed chest and turning a bit into his warm embrace. “Would you... tell me something about yourself?”

He frowns in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I'd like to know something more about you," you explain. "I mean the real you, not the aspiring Assassin.”

You only know that some kind of spirit showed him the Assassin insigna through a vision and he was instructed to seek out that symbol, before the Clan Mother directed him to Achilles for the proper training.

Apart from that, even though what you've learned is kinda fascinating, his life before coming to the Homestead is still a mystery to you.

“Tell me something more about _Ratohnhaké:ton_.”

Connor can't hide his amazement for the ease with which you said his real name for the first time. “Nobody can pronounce it here...”

You grin. “Looks like someone actually can. Now, any interesting story to tell me?”

“I did not think that could be of any interest to you.”

“Of course it is!”

A small, sweet smile, takes form over his sensual lips. “There is not much to say.”

“Anything will be fine.”

Seeing how insistent and eager to know you are, Connor nods his head before speaking. “I have spent most of my days playing and hunting in the frontier... and trying to understand why my people were not allowed to leave the valley.”

Your fingers take a gentle hold of the small braid in his hair, attention fully focused on his words as you listen silently.

“When I was a child, my village has been attacked... and my mother... burned in front of my eyes.”

The time suddenly stops leaving the two of you alone into a cold bubble of ice.  
You knew he lost his mother when he was still very young, but a similar incident is just too painful even to imagine.

The braid slips away from your fingers and your breaths mingle together as you stay pressed against his supportive frame. Your gaze falls over his right hand, that just came unconsciously around your wrist holding it against his chest. “Connor... I... I had no idea...”

“Charles Lee has to die. He is responsible for what happened to my mother.”

From what you can remember, Charles Lee is one of the Templars Achilles talked about when you arrived at the Homestead. Although you don't know a single thing about the Assassin Order and its creed, you somehow believe in it as well, sure you are that killing for a good cause should not be considered a crime. Because we all deserve to be free, living in a world without tyranny and impositions.

“I understand, you have all the rights to avenge your mother's death.”

“It is not only that.”

“I know.”

It's been almost a year since you stabilized at the Homestead, but you remember that day as if it was yesterday. You were wandering in the frontier with no food nor water left with you, the poor horse you were travelling with collapsed and died after a gunshot.  
You dared to steal an insignificant piece of meat from a Red Coat and this almost cost you your own life, together with your horse's one. Reaching the frontier on your weak legs after hours of getaway, you were surprised by a hungry wolf that seemed to find your smell particularly appetizing (reason why you rarely leave the Homestead now) and at that time, Connor heard your scream echoing through the trees and managed to assault your predator before it could jump and rip your body apart.

You still owe him your life, but everytime you mention it with your friend he doesn't seem to mind at all, enjoying the food you always cook with commitment and devotion for him and Achilles, as if that was enough to repay him for his rescue and the Old Man for the hospitality in his wonderful estate.

You take a deep sigh against his clothed chest.

“I did not mean to upset you. I know this is not exactly what you wanted to hear from me,” he says, breah brushing the skin of your forehead.

“You didn't.”

He trusts you enough to tell you about his past, the saddest and most terrible moment of his existence. Probably you were expecting something different indeed, but this just makes you want to stay with Connor even more.

"You know, I had a few words with Achilles yesterday," you abruptly change the subject not to awaken other painful memories. "I guess it's only a matter of time until he finally decides to give you those Assassin robes.”

The outfit tossed on that wooden dummy, left to dust for who knows how long.

Connor looks down at you. “Is that so?”

The corners of your mouth raise in a reassuring smile. “Yes, but don't mention it with the Old Man, okay? I still care about my young life.”

Suddenly amused by your cheerful attitude, Connor smiles back to you. “I will not.”

You move your hand out of his gentle hold, so that your fingertips could brush his soft ones with a delicate touch. He curiously stares at your fingers as they slowly intertwine with his, dark eyes gleaming with mixed emotions.  
You've never been this close to him before, nor to anyone else in your life. Feeling his hot body and his hand united to yours, you almost forget how to properly breathe, due to the intense pounding of your aching heart.

You swallow. “Considering that you use the bow pretty often, your hands are still very beautiful.”

A tint of pink appears on your cheeks, as you bite your tongue for your sudden exposure.

“Thank you. Your hands are... just as beautiful.” His voice is soft, yet so thrilling you will probably melt soon.

“You're not obligated to make me a compliment, Connor.”

He tenses. “But I... do think what I said to you.”

The more you spend some time with Connor, the more your legs quiver and guts twist irretrievably. You are both seventeen years old now, probably way too young to experience any kind of intimate situation. However, your feelings for him are undeniably strong and you can't see him as a simple friend when all you think about is feeling those lips of his over your eager ones.

In fact, lifting your chin and grazing his cheekbone with your nose, you inhale his exquisite scent as your entire shape shivers uncontrollably.  
Your hold around his right hand increases and you bite your lower lip bringing your mouth inches away from his.

His lips part as if he wanted to stop your unexpected and probably improper actions, but you are quite relieved when no words escape his throat.

Closing your eyes you sigh against his mouth, shivering again before finally covering it in a slow, tender first kiss. You can feel his body stiffen a second time under your touch, but not a single protest comes from the native boy. You are surprised, yet enthusiastic, when he attempts to kiss you back with the sweetest try of moving his lips and following the rhythm, the grip around your shoulder tightens in a possessive manner, but not enough to hurt your sensitive skin.

When you bravely push the tip of your tongue against his, Connor emits a subtle groan, before responding by imitating your sensual moves.

His taste, his heat, his touch, his adorable inexperience... you simply love it all.

You reluctantly pull away when your lungs can't take it anymore, the intoxicating kiss slowly breaks with a wet sound, both of you dazed and breathless for the mild effort.

“How was it...?” You nervously inquire.

Connor seems to consider the situation, carefully pondering over the right answer to give. “It was... new and... nice,” he declares, hand unconsciously drawing circles on your left arm.

You hide your burning face in the crook of his neck, incapable of holding his gaze any longer. “Is it okay, then? You're not mad?”

“I have no reason to be mad at you.”

Connor's heart probably is as big as the entire frontier (if not more), you hardly see his face contorted by anger or disappointment. He is protective, kind and helpful with every being alive, strong and well built despite his young age.

You like him. You like him more than you could ever believe.

“Well... consider it as my 'thank you' for saving my life back then. A bit late, I know... but still.”

You can feel him take a deep breath into your hair, hands separating from their strong chaining.

“ _Tsi niionehrákwa,_ ” he murmurs, locks moved gently behind your ear.

You rarely hear him speak in his native language too, but when he does, you just adore that cute accent with which he talks.

“What does it mean?” You curiously ask, face still pressed into his neck with the sole purpose of hiding your flushed cheekbones.

With a gentle, quick kiss on your forehead he replies, voice whispering into your now exposed ear as if the kiss you just shared wasn't enough to make you faint here and now. “It means... it was amazing.”

_Jesus Christ._


	2. Celebration

The crackle of the fireplace is the only sound in the cozy dining room, cold hands warming in front of it as you stay crouched on the wooden floor.  
Footsteps make the planks creak next to you, a distinct figure appears with a whisper of clothing before stopping at close range, tanned face illuminated by the golden flames.

Lifting from the hard plane, legs slightly aching, you welcome the person with a satisfied grin, eyes beholding his new white and blue robes with pride and admiration. “They really suit you.”

Connor responds with a timid smile. “Thank you.”

“Well then, now you are officially an Assassin, uh? How do you feel?”

“I am... honored, I guess.”

Your smile fade as soon as you notice the glumness along his features. “Are you okay, Connor? Someting is bothering you, I can see that.”

His brown eyes shift from your face to his feet, hair moving softly with each movement of his head. “I... I do not know what I am supposed to do now.”

Biting your lower lip you take a step forward, arms crossed around your chest. “These clothes are just a shell, you know. You already were an Assassin before putting them on, Achilles simply made the thing official now.”

You swallow unconsciously when his eyes are back on you again, legs quivering for the strong feelings you have to suppress whenever you breathe his delicious scent and stare at his native beauty.

He hesitates before answering. “I was not talking about that.”

Realization hits you like a powerful storm, the room suddenly cools despite the burning fire beside you.

Sure, Connor isn't referring to the title he finally received. Why should he be worried about being an Assassin, considering how nimble and skillful he's always been?

No, he is talking about you... about the kiss you two had shared a little more than a week ago... and that you just can't erase from your mind and heart.

“Oh,” you mutter.

“I cannot stop thinking about what happened between us,” he continues.

You wouldn't be able to look at him for the rest of your miserable life, not if what he's about to tell you is that he now regrets his actions and whishes that things had stayed the way they were before you dared to push them further without properly reflecting on it.

“Connor, it's okay,” you respond, guts painfully twisted in your abdomen. “I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

He probably sensed the tremor in your voice, because the moment you finish your sentence, his now gloved hand is around your shoulder. “You did not.”

Your arms fall along your sides. “What is it, then?”

His fingers slip from your shoulder to your own hand, brushing your clothed arm in the process. His touch is always so gentle that you barely feel it against your skin, but that seems more than enough to make you shudder every single time.

“I never did such a thing. I do not know how to... properly act with a girl.”

Your hand instantly closes around his, the rough material of his leather gloves on your sensitive palm. “Is that what you are worried about? Are you afraid of what could happen...?”

The native Assassin considers your words for a few seconds, then nods his head with an undisguised shyness painted over his features.

You take a deep sigh of relief, scared you were that he might reject you and make you want to bury yourself in a dark corner for the rest of your days.

“I am afraid too,” you then confess. “But there's a war out there, Connor. We are two lonely people, with a hard past behind and tough future ahead.”

He pulls you closer with an imperceptible tug, hot breath brushing on your forehead.

“You make me feel alive...” you state, eyes closed as you savor this precious moment with him in front of you, hearts in unison and fingers intertwined once more. “Since when my mother abandoned me, I thought I was probably destined to live my life alone... that nobody would ever wanted me around.”

You are the result of a filthy one night stand, your father's identity, therefore, still remains unkown to you. You were raised by your mother's sister, the only relative left, who gave you a midding place to stay for the following ten years, until she became ill and died soon after. Nevertheless, to her eyes you were simply an annoying burden, even if she never admitted it, nor reproached you anything.  
You could just see it into her tired and very stern eyes, that's all.

“But we do want you around, me and Achilles,” he specifies. “Especially me.”

Feeling touched by his warm and reassuring words, you place your fingers over his right cheek, outlining the small scar which marks his soft skin with an oblique thin line. Someway, your gesture is the perfect weapon that makes his shield finally drop, and to your surprise, he takes initiative by bringing his mouth a few inches away from yours.

You can feel his breath on your eager lips, a gaze full of desire you have never seen in his eyes and that is just turning you on even more.

But unfortunately, right before he could even graze your mouth with his, the sound of a cane tapping over the wooden floor forces you to abruptly detach from him. Connor stares at your nervous figure in confusion, until Achilles enters the dining room and stops at the doorway with a raised eyebrow and smug look on his aged face.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

Connor scratches the back of his head in embarrassment, your cheeks as hot as the dancing flames into the fireplace.

“Looks like the celebration for Connor's title has already begun.”

Achilles' dark lips form a playful smile, his weak body supported by the staff he's holding.

After a moment of tension and awkward silence, you break the stillness with a restless chuckle, brain incapable of forming any meaningful sentence. “Achilles... Hi...?”

_Damn you, Old Man._


	3. Tension

_A few years forward..._

 

 

“You do not understand!”

You nervously chew a piece of bread, eyes down and an awful feeling of discomfort.

“It's you who don't understand here, Connor.”

You empty your glass of water with long and frantic drafts.

“I have already explain it to you, old man. This is the only way!”

“No, this will only put you into troubles, son. How come you don't see it?”

You don't even remember when it started, but it's been a while since then. Everytime Achilles and Connor have tried to reason and run a civil conversation, it inevitably ended up with a harsh quarrel and today is no exception.

“You are the blind one here, Achilles. Not me.”

“I have more experience, Connor. You are so naive that I wonder if my teachings ever served.”

When you dare to lift your gaze from your plate, you behold a spark of anger into Connor's eyes. He, the very quiet one, is burning with rage for the first time since you know him.

“Uhm... It's better if I... leave you two alone.”

And then, feeling as if you've been invisible for the whole time, you quickly stand from your chair and slip into the kitchen, where the fire is still burning in high flames and the rest of the dinner you prepared is left forgotten over the wooden table.

You jump when the sound of a slamming door shakes the walls around you. Heart pounding, you immediatly run back to find a tired and disappointed Achilles all alone into the dining room, his food discarded in the plate in front of him.

“Where's Connor?” You inquire.

“I think he needed to clear his mind,” he replies, a sad smile appearing on his dark old lips.

“I'd suggest you to not go after him,” he continues. “But of course, I would understand if you don't intend to leave him alone.”

You bit your lower lip after a short moment of consideration and slowly step forward to take a sit next to the disheartened man.

“No, it's fine. It's you the one I wouldn't want to leave alone right now.”

Achilles stares at you with a slight surprise, then his eyes soften and he affectionatley pats your shoulder with his right hand.

“I am sorry, child.”

You love the way he still calls you after so many years, 'child'. Although you're not a child anymore, this appellation gives you a warm feeling into your chest. It makes it sound so... fatherly.

“You have nothing to apoligize for, Achilles.”

“You are forced to bear with this tension every single day, I definitely have to apologize,” he tells.

You shake your head. “You don't. I just... I wish you two could stop this useless fight.”

“I wish that too, trust my words, but Connor is such a stubborn one.”

You unconsciously shift your look to the doorway, hoping to see the native Assassin appear at any moment after a few minutes of meditation.

But you know he's not going to come back anytime soon.

“Letting George Washington know the truth about him and what he does... what a stupid, reckless idea!”

What are you supposed to say? Achilles has a valid reason to prevent Connor from doing such a thing. However, the Assassin certainly considered the pros and cons as he always does, so who are you to stop him from what it seems like the most right thing to do?

“I'm not asking you to take a position,” Achilles specifies, probably reading your tormented mind. “I know Connor is important for you, I would never put you against him.”

You smile again. “To be honest, I think you are both right, in a way or another.”

A soft chuckle escapes his lips. “Don't think about it too much.”

Maybe, if you were an Assassin as well, it would be easier for you to understand.

“Thank you for this exquisite dinner, child. It pains me to see it wasted, but my appetite is gone.”

And you believe the same thing happened to Connor, considering he barely touched his food.

“It's okay. I can eventually try to save it for tomorrow.”

Achilles stands, staggering a little and supporting himself with his wooden cane. “I would gladly help you to clean this up, but my endurance is no longer what it used to be, I'm afraid.”

“You don't have to worry, Achilles. It's not a big deal. What about a Fanorona match instead?”

The old man's lips widen. “Sounds like a very good idea.”

You giggle. “Fine, then. Once I'm done here I want my revenge.”

“Ah, don't think you can beat me, child.”

Picking up the untouched plates, you mischievously smirk. “We'll see.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

Midnight.

Mocassins cross the threshold as the young Assassin closes the wooden door behind him. His cheeks are cold from the night air, nerves calm after his long wandering into the frontier, but heart still heavy for the umpteenth quarrel he had with the Old Man.  
  
Stepping into the dining room he spots your figure, sitting at the table and bent over the surface with your face pressed against an open book, arms crossed on it and eyelids lowered. The flames are crackling in the fireplace, small candles illuminating the room and painting your skin with a slight orange tint.

A warm feeling spreads into his chest. You look so fragile, so innocent, so pure and delicate like a precious flower... guilt making its way inside of him, sure he is that you have tried to stay awake, waiting until now, but eventually surrendered to the exhaustion of the day. 

A gentle hand touches your shoulder, shaking your smaller form almost imperceptibly, yet enouth to awake you from your mild sleep. Your eyes come into contact, the shadow of a smile pulling the corners of his mouth upward.

"Connor," you whisper. "Welcome back."

"It is late," he states, putting an arm around your shoulders as you lift your aching back from the table, the other slipping under your knees. "This is not a comfortable place to sleep."

You manage to answer with a simple 'uhm', being carried bridal style outside the room and up the stairs, your limp body supported by his strong hold as he proceeds.  
  
A soft material welcomes your tired frame, whilst he lays you down on the bed with extreme caution, as if you were made of very frail glass.  
Smiling weakly at the man, you raise a hand to touch his face, warm fingers outlining his masculine jaw. Connor takes your hand in his and hesitantly moves inches away from your lips, after so many years he still acts like a shy little boy, unsure of what he should or should not do. You can't help but find this attitude absolutely adorable.

You close your eyes when his lips meet yours in a tender kiss, thumb lovingly caressing your sensitive cheekbone. When your mouths part, his face still painfully close, you trace a random path along his clothed chest with your fingertips, pondering over the words you have on the tip of your tongue and fail to contain. 

"Don't fight with Achilles... please?"

Connor frowns, sitting on the mattress at your side. "But-"

"I know," you cut short. "But Achilles... he is worried about you."

His expression hardens. "It is not that things will change just sitting here and doing nothing."

You shake your head. "You've got your point, alright. And Achilles got his, too. Why don't you try to find a compromise instead of arguing this much?"

"And what kind of compromise do you have in mind?" He inquires with a slightly sharp tone.

Sighing deeply, "I don't really know. That is up to you, Connor."

The Assassin stares at his image reflected into your tired eyes, now fully accustomed to the darkness of your room, moonlight shining through the windows.

"Sleep now," he drops the subject, the rough leather of his fingerless glove caressing your cheek. "You need some rest."

You'd like to protest and keep talking about the unbearable tension you constantly feel between him and the Old Man, but your body is sore and brain lacking in energy. Thus, you let your native boyfriend help you to adjust the pillows under your head and then graze your forehead with an imperceptible touch of his lips, his massive body irradiating a delightful heat, long dark hair framing the face you became fond to.  
The passing years have given him stronger features, especially around his chin, jaw and cheekbones. The hard training only served to accentuate his already developed muscles, his height increased and strength intensified. The only thing remained unchanged is his big, kind heart, that's still maintaining him as innocent and boyish as he once used to be.

You kick your boots away and make them fall noisily on the floor, to then tuck your bare feet under the warm covers. You breath in - long lashes covering your eyes - and savor the delicious scent that never ceases to ignite your senses, Connor smelling like pines, fresh air and gun powder, a so unique mixture you could never find on anybody else before.

When his weight leaves the mattress and you hear the sound of his mocassins whilst he reaches the room entrance, you can't suppress the immense sense of loneliness that immediately surrounds you. "Wait," thin voice calling the man. "Don't leave just yet."

You get a gloomy silence as a responce, which makes you wonder if he actually heard you or left in a fraction of second before you could even speak. You wouldn't be surprised, though, considering how fast and shrewd Connor is; proficient like a jaguar and quick like a wolf.  
  
However, the faint sound of his shifting clothes immediatly settles your heart down, his steps approaching you again as he finally occupies the empty space next to your smaller form with the sole intention of watching you sleep for a brief instant and then retire in his own room for the rest of the night.  
  
But, before even realizing it, the enchantment of sleep wraps up his mind and his eyelids get suddenly heavier. His left hand is abandoned on your flat stomach, breaths in unison and heartbeats mingled together. The both of you falling into a deep sleep right after, lulled by the silent night and the chirping of crickets from outside.


	4. I love you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I seriously am a hopeless romantic! D:

Tapering fingers smooth the long locks on your left shoulder as you brush your hair, ready to lie down on your large canopy bed after such a long, tiring, but fantastic day.

_“You may kiss your bride.”_

You smile at the memory of your two best friends, Myriam and Norris, finally getting married after a long courtship (and Connor's providential help from time to time), such an important event celebrated afterwards, partying until late night at the **Mile's End**.

More than twenty-four hours away from any concern, fears put aside and locked in a remote corner of your brain. Even Connor surely looked relaxed and satisfied, despite the big burden over his shoulders and George Washington's safety constantly at risk.

When you saw him accompanying Myriam to the altar as a father would, a bunch of flying batterflies took form into your stomach which almost ripped due to the strong sensation. It's not a secret that Connor doesn't really believe in your God, yet he accepted to take the place of the bride's missing dad without hesitation, staying by her side in the most important moment of her life.

His goodness has no limits and never ceases to surprise you.

Your Homestead friends had spent most of the night talking about you and Connor, wondering when the two of you will decide to unite in marriage as well. The farmers, Prudence and Warren, are particularly interested in your relationship with the native Assassin, the woman having a weakness for you two, feeling excited and extremely touched for your long-lasting bond.

Although you never really thought about a similar possibility, it does make a lot of sense indeed. So many years together and yet you still sleep in separate rooms, opposite one another.  
Sure enough is that, if he asked you to become his wife, you certainly wouldn't say 'no' to Connor, but it's not like you're dying to get a ring over your left finger, anyway. What you care about the most is knowing he will be by your side safe and sound until the end of times, nothing will ever make you happier than that.

A tall figure silently approaches your room and lays against the doorframe, watching you with a visible adoration, arms folded against his clothed chest.

With the corner of your eyes you spot Connor on the threshold, a toothy grin appearing on your lips right after. “Hey,” you greet him happily.

The corners of his mouth raise into a soft, loving smile. “You are beautiful.”

An indescribable warmth wraps around your beating heart. “You never said that before.”

Connor often makes you a lot of compliments, mostly highlighting how good the meals you prepare always are and how incredibly clean the mansion looks despite its size. He loves the sound of your voice, the way you laugh, but never clearly used those three simple words.

“I should do that more often,” he specifies, leaving the doorframe and taking slow steps in your direction.

Standing up from the chair you lift your nightgown and step aside, bare foot meeting colder planks as you move.“And I should tell you how you amaze me each passing day, Connor. You seriously did a great thing for Myriam today.”

The Assassin stops inches away from you, fingers brushing along the table's surface. “I am happy if I can be helpful for a friend.”

Incapable of resisting the urge to touch his perfect face, your fingertips immediatly meet the soft skin of his jaw. “I'm glad I could spend the whole day with you, for once.”

His chocolate eyes meet yours again, gleaming into the soft candle lights of the room. “You were radiant today. I loved seeing you like this,” he says.

You trace a small path from his chin to the rock-hard chest in front of you, palm stopping right on his heart, which you can feel underneath his thick robes.“I'm always radiant when I have you by my side. If only we could stay this way forever.”

Every beautiful thing has an end after all. You are perfectly aware of the fact that, at sunrise, everything will go back to its previous state; the routine, the impatience, the days waiting for him to come back alive and unharmed, your anxiety.

“So many things still have to be done.”

You nod your head. “I know... I just don't want to talk about it now.”

The night is still so long and young and you suddenly don't want to waste it sleeping all alone in such a big, empty bedroom. Not now that Connor is so close to your figure, not with his breath caressing your forehead and your tiredness suddenly gone.

Not with his eyes, somehow full of expectation, so glued to your own.

“ _Ratonhnhaké:ton_... I...”

It's been a very long while since you spoke his real name. Like any other time, Connor can barely hide the appreciation for your perfect pronunciation and the intimacy in your act. After all these years, you feel like something is still missing between the two of you, left unspoken or forgotten when it's the most important thing to remember especially in the darkest moments. You simply want to say it out loud for the first time, because it never felt so right.

“I love you.”

Connor's eyes widen slightly, the man clearly surprised by your sudden words.

“It's something I always took for granted, knowing that my feelings for you were perfecly clear and nothing was there to be properly said.”

He listens, motionless and visibly touched.

“I want to let you know how much you mean to me, Connor. You are my savior, you gave me a new life, a family, a wonderful place to stay.”

His eyes soften. You continue. “I wish I could keep you with me every minute, every second. I know how important your tasks are, for this reason I do-”

Your words are cut off by a pair of soft, delicious lips crushing over yours, hands possessively placed on your hips. The wet tip of his tongue bravely brushes against your botton lip and enters the cavern of your mouth as you gladly open it for him. Your hands take a hold of his pulsing neck, dark brown hair tickling your fingers and you try to prevent your legs from melting in a ridiculous puddle.

When he parts from you with a delicate, sweet wet sound, you lick your lips savoring the incredible taste of the massive man between your arms.

You smile, contented (but not sated) knowing that this wonderful man clearly returns your feelings unconditionally, proving it with the best kiss you ever shared with him.

You belong to him as much as he belongs to you and this gives you the courage you needed to finally take a step forward and make it even more official.

You're just ready, both physically and mentally, to reach a higher level in your relationship. Myriam's wedding was probably the right push you were looking for, supplemented with all those expecting questions about your and Connor's future. Your desire for him actually increased when he stood next to you during the ceremony and exploded the moment when the Homestead seamstress, Ellen, gifted him with a beautiful flag she sewed as a sign of gratitude for all the help she received.  
You started to feel like you wanted, you _had_ to repay your boyfriend the way he deserves, with something that goes beyond the making of his food or the house cleaning.

You watch him in silence, hand placed over his chest again, waiting for some kind of agreement and knowing he would certainly be as shy as yourself regarding any possible sexual intercourse.

Without asking, nor waiting a second more, your shaking fingers reach for the leather straps around his torso and linger on the buckle that keeps them firm and connected. He simply stares, without moving an inch, as you loose the straps and try to push them away from his body.

Panic runs through your face when he takes a sudden hold of your wrists, but you mentally sigh in relief when you see him grab the straps right after, slipping them off his torso and abdomen trying to not make the guns fall from their holsters.

Placing the weapons and leather straps on the table next to you, Connor seems to consider the current situation and what to do next, uncertain of the correct move to make to keep going.

He then turns to you, hesitantly, watching as you close the space between your bodies once more and hook your fingers around the buttons of his robes. Starting from the first one, every button comes undone until you reach the red stash around his waist, supported by a leather belt adorned with the Assassin metallic symbol on the front. The white vest is now partially open, exposing an inviting strip of tanned skin. You nervously search for his gaze, finding a pair of glistening eyes that are worth a thousand words.

Connor wants you as much as you want him.

Seeing that you're not going to make any other move, the Assassin begins to unfasten the hidden blades that he always keeps secured around his forearms and wrists. The left one is the first to go, followed by the other while he places them on the wooden surface next to his guns, bow the only missing weapon, surely too bulky for such an important day.

You stare at your lover with growing desire when he continues his work on the belt and stash, both soon removed and discarded with the other pieces of his uniform.  
Tired of waiting, you gently touch his left arm feeling the soft material of the sleeve against your palm. Connor immediatly lowers on you to steal another kiss, tender, yet hungry. His gloved hands roam on your delicate form, travelling along your shoulders, back and sides. Without hesitation, your hands finally slip into the open robes to feel the velvety skin underneath, fingertips wandering on his naked chest, down to the well developed muscles of his abdomen. You can feel some old trace of battle scars healed in a short time, an inaudible groan escaping his throat while you touch him, the Assassin vest becoming more and more bothersome each passing second.

You at last free his wonderful body from the intricate robes he's wearing, sliding them down his massive shoulders and making them slip off his arms till they fall on the floor with a slight thud. Now half naked in front of you, Connor is a view you can barely stand with his wide torso, large biceps, sculpted pecs and rock hard abs, all under a smooth coffee colored skin.

Wrapping your arms around his neck you inhale deeply to smell his scent, two warm bodies pressed together. You stay embraced to him for a few minutes and even through the material of your nightgown you can feel the direct contact, his hands caressing your back up and down repeatedly in a reassuring way.

Then, believing it's time to finally give him something in return, you take a step back and start lowering the upper part of your nightgown, one shoulder exposed as you timidly reaveal your body little by little, every piece of creamy skin coming into his view.

Connor swallows, a soft tint of pink appearing on his cheeks. You mentally chuckle pushing down the rest of your clothes, very slowly, until you're almost fully naked in front of an upset Assassin. The nightdress eventually falls around your ankles, leaving you uncovered and with just a thin undergarment hiding your most intimate part.

The way he tries to keep his eyes locked on your face is absolutely adorable, whilst you step out of the dress completely and reach out to him, calloused fingers grazing your palm afterwards.

With a burst of confidence, Connor presses your half bare body against his strong structure, hands giving your back a few electric shocks. Your foreheads meet in a loving, complicit touch, his eyes are closed and inviting lips parted, hot breath warming your face as you start to guide him toward the bed. 

Your breath quickens, the surrounding temperature feels way hotter than it originally was.

Lying down on the bed with his hand still wrapped around yours, Connor follows your movements without saying a single word, way too shy and lost in your very first private experience. You try to incite him with another kiss on his mouth, carefully massaging his scalp with your nails, legs open and put around his supportive waist.

Eventually, Connor pushes himself upward with his elbows, surrendering to the visible burning desire into his eyes and finally staring at your naked skin. Brown irises linger on your collarbone, to continue along your breasts, abdomen and thighs, fingertips tracing small circles around your belly button, which only serves to excite you even more.

Then, almost hesitantly, the Assassin abandons your tender frame and sits on the edge of the bed, mocassins being untied painfully slowly from his feet. You waste no time, though... eager lips immediatly finding the hot, delicious skin of his right shoulder, hands slipping under a stretched arm and resting on the hard muscles of his stomach. You can't hide your satisfaction when you feel him shivering at your touch, sure you are that he can feel the insane beating of your heart against his back.

Now barefoot, Connor easily climbs on the mattress sliding forward and forcing you to draw back, head meeting a set of soft cushions the moment when he settles down between your legs again. A comforting smile pulls the sides of your lips, eyes glued to his beautiful visage as you caress his right cheek, delicately outlining the skin below his scar with your thumb.

Taking some initiative himself, Connor's mouth begins to explore every sensitive spot of your own face, placing little sweet kisses on your cheekbone, nose, lower lip and chin. Your heart melts when he switches to your neck, toes curling in anticipation because of the waves of pleasure your boyfriend is already causing you.

" _Konoronhkwa_ ," he whispers against your heated skin.

"Ah...what...does it mean?" You inquire, always fascinated by his culture (but a bit distracted at the time).

"It means 'I love you'... in my native language," he answers, fingers timidly hooking under the band of your undergarments.

Oh, this is going to be a memorable night for sure.


End file.
